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I've had such a horrible day today. My brother Bernstein got laid to some ugly chavscum filth straight out of the gutter. The fact that Bernstein has had sex with the ugliest, nigh-on deformed woman in the world while I with my higher than zero standards remain a virgin is a sign. From the heavens? I wish, rather it came from the deepest darkest dungeons of doom and gloom in the pits of Hades itself. It obviously means that I'm a horrible failure and that I have no chance at succeeding at life. The only obvious solution to the Narkian Question shall therefore be that I exterminate myself with a box cutter to the wrist. Here's a picture of me right after I cut myself.



My wrist is a flowing river that acts as a channel for my sorrows and the picture is a perfect metaphor for my life: all is black, white or red. Either you succeed, fail or turn communist. Well I for one believe that christmas presents are better than world wide equality at a minimal expense to myself so I'll stick with my pre-determined fate: ETERNAL AND EVERLASTING FAILURE AND SUFFERING AT THE HANDS OF THE FOUR CHAOS GODS, ALL OF VALHALLA, EVERY TITAN AND ALL THOSE LEAN MEAN PWNINATION MACHINES ON TOP OF MOUNT OLYMPUS.
There is no hope, for I learnt that hope is but the first step in the road to disappointment. I'm so sad now, I'm going to write some emo poetry and make up the lyrics as I go:

That took me twenty seconds, twenty seconds that God - who hates me - will never give me back. Twenty more seconds of my life wasted in this downwards-spiralling roller coaster ride towards death, and even though I long for it I'm still further saddened by the fact that I'll die alone and unloved. I could love once, but the joke was on me. She stole my heart and never gave it back, and now the unheart that remains knows nothing but eternal sadness. Give me a 10mm aspirin already and rid me of this disease called life.